


Bowstring

by Felisorablue



Series: Sugar and Spice [4]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anxiety, Birthday Party, College AU, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Gen, Jock!Marco, M/M, Nerd!Jean, Other, POV Jean Kirstein, Spin the Bottle, Violins, blowjob, fucking ridiculous amount of alcohol, handjob, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24108001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felisorablue/pseuds/Felisorablue
Summary: Jean’s just pecking the surface of all the reasons he doesn’t want to be here, but just as he’s about to turn to Connie and thank him for the invite before swiftly leaving, his eyes land onhim.Surrounded by giggling girls in scant clothing, his red and white bomber jacket fitting his broad shoulders perfectly, smiling that wide white smile of his.Marco Bott.Captain of the football team, local popular kid, and absolute dream boat for an endless list of reasons.God damnit.Well, there goes the majority of his motivation to leave.
Relationships: Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Levi/Eren Yeager, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, Reiner Braun/Bertolt Hoover, Sasha Blouse/Connie Springer, implied: - Relationship
Series: Sugar and Spice [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1274447
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	Bowstring

**Author's Note:**

> here ya go ya horny bastards dont say i never did anything for you  
> also its literally 4 in the morning and i just finished writing this end me  
> tbh pretty happy with how this turned out tho  
> Also idk why i called it bowstring. maybe cus jean plays the violin. but otherwise i just like the word so im going with it

As soon as he walks through the door and into the dark, stuffy room lit by blue and purple strobe lights, Jean immediately regrets everything _. _

“Connie, you better give me a  _ really _ good reason for my being here.”

Connie, who is behind him with his girlfriend Sasha, gapes at him. “What? Dude! Come on, this is awesome! The Ackermans are known for their parties, and with it being Mikasa’s birthday, this one’s gonna be for the history books. Plus, there’s tons of our classmates here, it’ll be great!”

“That’s the opposite of great,” Jean mumbles, lip curling from the overwhelming stench of tequila mixed with sweaty college student musk. 

Connie claps him on the shoulder and Jean glowers at him. “Nah, it’ll be great! I mean, what else would you be doing on a fine Friday night like this?”

Jean sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Studying, like I’m  _ supposed _ to be doing right now.”

Connie blows a raspberry in his face and Jean leans dramatically away, trying to dodge any of the resulting spittle. 

“Wow, sooo fun. Dude, you don’t know how to live. Relax! You’ll have fun, promise!”

Jean surveys the room with a very skeptical eye. Fun?  _ This?  _ Please, spare him. From where he’s standing at the front door, he can already see some obvious red flags. 

Like those two guys slamming back shots like they’re dying from thirst. Or that person on the stairway giggling to themselves as the bong in their hand gradually creates a bigger and bigger cloud of smoke over their head. Or the three ladies in the corner, pointing at various people and whispering to each other, no doubt coming up with next week’s stupid gossip. Or maybe the various couples in the middle of the room, grinding on each other like rabid animals. 

Jean’s just pecking the surface of all the reasons he doesn’t want to be here, but just as he’s about to turn to Connie and thank him for the invite before swiftly leaving, his eyes land on _ him _ .

Surrounded by giggling girls in scant clothing, his red and white bomber jacket fitting his broad shoulders perfectly, smiling that wide white smile of his. 

Marco Bott. 

Captain of the football team, local popular kid, and absolute dream boat for an endless list of reasons.

_ God damnit.  _

Well, there goes the majority of his motivation to leave. 

Connie chuckles from next to Jean. “Found what you were looking for?”

_ Yes.  _

“Shut up Connie.”

Connie laughs. “C’mon, you love me. And! I also refuse to be your human shield tonight, so me and Sash are gonna go find some drinks.”

“Wha- Connie-”

Connie shoves a finger over his lips. “Nope! You’re on your own, Jeanie boy. Peace out.” 

And with that, Connie turns away with a cheeky grin, throws his arm around Sasha, and disappears into the crowd. 

_ Motherfucking  _ **_damnit._ **

Jean looks around for the least crowded place. Is there anywhere he can just...hide for a while? A quiet corner, uninhabited by a couple making out like they’re gonna die any second?

He sighs. Time to find a bathroom to lock himself into and pretend he doesn’t exist until this fucking party ends. 

Jean weaves through the thinner part of the crowd dodging elbows and ducking under flailing hands from the drunk dancers. He squeezes by four jocks having what seems to be the most intense arm wrestle ever, and slips past two girls that appear to be otherwise absorbed in each other in ways Jean wishes he didn’t see. Finally, he makes it to a kitchen and there must be some god out there taking pity on his poor ass because it's miraculously empty, and also quite average looking, unlike the rest of the party-soiled house. 

A bag of wilted celery has been left on the counter, a folded up newspaper on the table next to an old coffee mug. A wind chime hangs in the window above the sink.

Jean lets out a long breath of relief. 

_ Finally. Peace.  _

He takes a seat at the table and pulls out his phone, which is thankfully at full charge. He can just hang out here until the party peeders out and then go home to his dorm. 

He settles into his chair and unlocks his phone, when-

“HEY, LET'S PLAY SPIN THE BOTTLE!!”

The small, humble kitchen is suddenly swarmed by people, staggering with drink and loud voices. They open cabinets, and drawers, dig through the trash and recycling, and yank open the fridge in their wild search for a bottle. 

In the middle of the ruckus, someone holds a glass beer bottle up triumphantly. “Got one!!”

The resulting cheer is deafening and Jean shrinks into a small invisible ball as much as he can. 

It doesn’t work, because why would it with his luck, and three scruffy, weedy looking guys come up to him as everyone else vacates the room. One guy slaps his hands onto the table and leans in far too close to Jean’s face. 

“Hey bud, you gotta join us! Wanna get some action with a hot girl?”

Jean winces as the guys warm, alcohol drenched breath wafts across his face and leans away. “Uh, I’m good, but thanks.”

The guys laugh like it's the most hilarious thing they’ve ever heard. “No way, dude, come on! Ya can’t pass up a chance like this!” 

They round the table and begin tugging him to his feet. 

“Uh, wait-” 

His words go unnoticed- or ignored- as the guys push him towards the main room. 

“We got you, dude, gonna get you some puss tonight! Thank us later!”

“Um, that’s...kind of you, but I really am not interested in-”

Jean attempts to dig his heels in, but they just slide across the tile and before he has a chance to escape, he’s standing in the main room and being shoved towards the dauntingly big circle of drunk/high/crossed people. 

“Find a seat, man! We’ll see ya later, maybe!” The three guys wander off laughing and clapping each other on the back in what looks to be congratulations like they just saved an abandoned puppy from the street. 

Jean sighs. Fuck it. He’ll sit through the game just for the hell of it. The chances of the bottle landing on him are, statistically, pretty low since there’s so many people playing, and many of them are  _ very _ drunk, so the game will probably be cut short by people rushing for a toilet or a sink to get sick into. 

He carefully, quietly makes his way around the circle before tucking himself into a small opening between a bored looking guy on his phone and someone who’s lying face down on the carpet and probably asleep if he goes by how they’re snoring.

A bubbly looking girl with curly pink hair in a bikini bounces into the middle of the circle with the beer bottle. “Ok, here we go!,” she chirps, and places the bottle on its side. “Get yer smoochin’ lips ready, folks!”

She gives the bottle a hefty spin and Jean watches as it twirls around and around. 

The game starts and people start getting picked. 

A small blond girl and a lanky, freckled one are first. 

Then it's a broad shouldered blond jock and a beanpole of a guy. 

Then it's a shady looking guy and an innocent looking girl, who turn out to be good friends and just kiss each other on the cheek.

The next is a short, grumpy looking man and a shaggy, wide eyed boy, who Jean is pretty sure is actually Mikasa’s brother. Never did like that guy. 

The bottle is spun again. The brown glass glints rainbow in the blue and purple strobe lights as it whirls around, passing people again and again.

It slows and the crowd holds its breath. 

It ever so slowly comes to a stop, and with it, Jean’s heart. 

It's pointing directly at him. 

He can’t mistake it for pointing elsewhere. The guy on his phone left a couple rounds ago, and the other person is literally asleep. There’s no escape from this. 

_ Fuck my life.  _

The crowd cheers, and Jean can swear he hears those three guys cheering the loudest. It doesn’t stop his hands from starting to sweat. 

As the bottle is spun again, he prays it lands on Connie or Sasha, so he can use the friend excuse and get away with a measly kiss on the cheek. 

It spins like it's picking his death sentence, and he watches as it passes person after person. 

His heart hammers in his chest as he watches it slow to a stop. The crowd gasps and cheers louder than ever. His fate has been sealed. 

He traces the direction it's pointed, across the carpet, up to his poor victim’s folded legs, up their chest-

His heart trips. 

_ I know that body. _

He meets their eyes, honey brown and kind. 

And very much Marco Bott’s. 

He blinks rapidly. He’s being pranked. He must be. Can you rig a spin-the-bottle? It must be possible. Maybe it's magnets. 

But he doesn’t have time to think about that, because Marco smiles at him and begins to shuffle on his knees to the middle of the circle to meet Jean.

Now,  _ that _ really sealed his fate. He can’t embarrass  _ the  _ Marco Bott by refusing to kiss him. He’d never see the end of the shit storm from his fans if he did that.

So he swallows, wills his heart to stop trying to get out of his chest and tells his brittle nerves to fuck off. 

Just a quick peck, and then it's done and he can return to being the unknown nobody in the back of the class. 

That’s it. 

He copies Marco and gets to his knees, shuffling forward until he’s in the middle with Marco, about a foot away. 

“Sorry about this,” Jean mumbles, keeping his eyes on the carpet. 

Marco doesn’t respond. Instead, he smoothly moves closer, until they’re knee to knee. 

Jean’s face warms further, and thinks that his cheeks might actually light on fire. His hands are sweating enough to produce a small pond. He keeps his eyes glued to the floor.

He hears Marco chuckle with that bourbon-smooth voice of his and swallows again. 

_ Oh god why is this happening?! This is gonna be so embarrassing, Marco is gonna laugh in my face and then everyone else is gonna laugh and- _

Jean flinches out of his thoughts when he feels the tip of a single finger under his chin. He shakily looks up and meets deep coffee brown eyes, kind and soft. He resists the urge to melt as much as the urge to run away as fast as he can.

He gulps, and Marco smiles- surprisingly gently, for someone who Jean swears is playing a sick prank on him- before he lowers his head a fraction and asks, so quietly that Jean is sure no one else could have heard or perhaps even noticed, “Can I kiss you?”

Jean’s brain is clearly dead, and as he doesn’t know what else to do, he hums ‘Mhm’ with a trembling voice, and before his brain has time to further melt into a messy puddle of nerves, Jean closes his eyes as Marco leans forward the last few inches and- 

Marco is kissing him.

His lips are surprisingly soft, plush and firm at the same time. He gently sucks on Jean’s bottom lip, and Jean instinctively goes pliant under him, his chest filling with something orange and warm like a summer breeze. He shifts slightly to slant their mouths together just a little better, pressing against Marco, and shivers as molten lightning zips through him when Marco nips at his lips in response.

But as soon as it started, Marco pulls away at last- or is it too soon- and grins. 

The crowd cheers and he’s immediately thrown back into ever so painful reality.

This was a performance, a  _ game. _

Jean’s heart jackrabbits with anguish and he stutters an apology. He staggers to his feet and sways for a lightheaded moment before he’s pushing though the crowd of people he forgot was watching them. 

He rushes down a hallway and beelines for the first door he sees. With a rushed twist of the handle, he stumbles through the door and into a thankfully empty bedroom. 

He shuts the door behind him and flumps back against it, covering his face with his hands as he sinks to the ground.

Good GOD what has he done. He just embarrassed himself in front of all the popular kids at school, probably showed everyone that he doesn’t know how to kiss since that was his first time, and then ran. He never should have listened to Connie, coming to this party was a bad BAD idea and he-

_ Knock knock. _

“Jean?”

Jean’s heart bounces- and falls down the metaphorical stairs. 

It’s Marco. (Jean didn’t know he even knew his name.)

“I’m sorry I spooked you.”

Jean stays silent. He’ll just embarrass himself if he talks again. Or does really anything again. Ever.

“Um, can we talk? Face to face? Not through a door?”

Jean swallows. He knows he’s gonna fold.

“Please, Jean?”

Well, he tried. Jean stands up on shaky legs and twists the doorknob, letting it open a crack. He rubs a hand across his face in shame and walks away, towards the bed, preparing to be torn apart by Marco for being a fucking loser.

Marco’s footsteps are soft on the carpet and Jean hears the soft click of the door closing again.

“Hey…”

Jean gulps, bringing an arm up across his chest, gripping his other arm. Nowhere to hide now. “Just say it.”

Marco sighs. “I- I’m really sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

Jean dares to glance over his shoulder. He knows bullies, this is just a trick. “You don’t mean that.”

Marco steps forward to stand next to him. “No, I really do. I should have thought about how the crowd might have put pressure on you. I just, uh, forgot that you didn’t know them as friends since you’re new to the school. They’re not scary once you know them, I promise, but…”

Jean glances at him, and sees his anxious face, furrowed brows. 

Maybe he isn’t acting?

Jean carefully clears his throat, begging the shake he knows will be there not to be. 

“Y-yeah, well. I, um. I guess, as a new student, I wasn’t really...super confident in my abilities to not totally ruin my reputation for the rest of my time here. So.”

Whoops, maybe that was  _ too _ honest. 

But even with his oversharing, Marco is quick to respond. “Yeah, of course! I mean, that makes sense. New people, new place, new nerves, I guess? But I can assure you that everyone out there is absolutely harmless once you get to know them, just- just normal, dorky people. Nothing to be afraid of!”

Jean turns his head to look at Marco with a raised eyebrow. Marco meets his gaze steadily and Jean fights himself to keep from looking back down.

Marco’s face shifts into something serious. “But if there is anyone who you are genuinely afraid of, just let me know, I’ll handle them.” 

Jean blinks. That..wasn’t what he was expecting. “Uh. I don’t have anyone...currently in mind, but I’ll let you know?”

Marco nods, satisfied. “Ok, that’s good. I’m glad.”

They both fall awkwardly silent and Jean sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He turns to fully face Marco.

“Look, I’m...really, really sorry about the stupid spin the bottle thing. Thanks for going with it and, well, not laughing at me. Probably was, um, kinda embarrassing for you, so..sorry about that.”

Marco straightens up, eyes wide. “Embarrassed? No! I- no, of course not, I mean, I’m not embarrassed that I kissed you, if that’s..what you meant?”

Jean blinks. What? “Ah, no, I meant...I mean, you’re kind of ridiculously popular, and then you get stuck kissing the awkward new loner. Didn’t seem fair.”

“Awkward new- no! It- no, I-” Marco stops stumbling over his own words to take a deep breath. “I, uh. I was happy to kiss you.”

Jean’s traitorous heart skips. “You..were?”

Marco nods insistently. “Yes! You’d have known if I wasn’t, I swear.”

Jean looks at him sideways doubtfully. There’s no way this is actually happening. If he could just-

“Prove it.”

Marco pulls back, shocked. “What?”

Jean blinks. He can’t believe he just said that. But he’s dug himself this deep of a hole, might as well keep going.

He speaks with the most confidence he can muster. “I- I want you to prove that you were happy to kiss me.”

Marco stares at him like he’s grown a second head. “You...want me to kiss you again?”

Jean swallows, cheeks warming, but holds strong. “Y-yeah.”

Marco rubs a muscular arm nervously. “I don’t want to scare you off again though. Are you sure??”

Jean nods once. “Mhm.”

Marco shifts, uneasy for a moment before settling. “Well...ok then.”

He steps closer to Jean and lifts his hands to delicately cradle Jean’s face. Jean sucks in a breath at the contact, relishing in the warmth. Marco hesitates. 

“You’re absolutely sure?”

Jean huffs. “Yes. Kiss me.”

Finally, Marco presses their lips together and Jean inhales as an electric thrill goes through him, drug-like warmth spreading across his body as Marco kisses him deep and slow. A hollow in his chest yawns with need as his heart quickens when Marco sucks on his lips, swiping his tongue wetly across one. 

A tiny noise escapes him when Marco licks across his lips again and he shivers, hands finding Marco’s waist and clinging to his shirt as their kiss escalates into something more desperate. 

He opens his mouth to let Marco lick into it, curling across the backs on his teeth and he presses their lips together roughly, desperately as a ball of heat starts to grow in his stomach. 

He rolls Marco’s bottom lip with his teeth and is rewarded with a low hum, but before he can do anything else, Marco nudges him backwards. The edge of the bed hits the back of his knees and he stumbles, forcing them to break their kiss and Jean to fall on the bed. 

He pants. “Holy shit.”

Marco, out of breath, grins. “How’s that for proving it?”

Jean, with gained confidence, cocks his head to the side. “I’m not sure I’m totally convinced yet.”

Marco hums and leans over, resting a knee on the bed between Jean’s thighs. “I guess I have to fix that then.”

He takes Jean’s lips again, catching one between his teeth and tugging at it. He shifts closer, moving his knee forward and-

“Ah!,” Jean gasps, breaking their kiss. 

Marco looks at him with concern before he looks down and realizes where his knee is. He smiles teasingly and rubs his knee against Jean’s crotch again, sending a pleasurable shiver up his spine.

“Do you want me to take care of that?”

Jean stares at him in shock, the cloudy haze in his mind clearing. 

“Wha- are you kidding?!,” he stammers, mouth hanging open. 

Marco shakes his head. “Nope, not kidding. Consider it a sort of…payment for the embarrassment earlier, during spin-the-bottle.”

Jean gawks at him, opening his mouth, then closing it, then opening it again. “I- you- you want to?”

“I want to.” Marco affirms before jerking back an inch. “I mean, if you want me too.”

Jean is speechless. “Uh, I. I guess? I’ve- never- uhm.”

Marco looks carefully at him. “You can say no, I won’t do anything unless you want me to.”

Jean flops back onto the bed, covering his burning face with an arm. “I…” He swallows. 

“Yes, please,” he mumbles. 

He opens his eyes a crack and sees Marco smiling down at him. 

“There you are..”

Jean averts his gaze, cheeks warm, but as soon as Marco rubs a hand over his bulge, he stiffens and flings the arm covering his face to the covers to cling to them.

“Sensitive, huh?’ Marco hums as Jean sucks in an unsteady breath when he strokes across him again. “Just tell me if you want me to stop.”

With that, he unbuttons Jean’s pants and wraps his hand around his cock, thumbing over the head.

Jean gasps, arching into the touch. Marco leans down to kiss him hotly, licking into his mouth, and Jean throws an arm around his neck, trying to hang onto his sanity as Marco works him, catching the pearly white precome that dribbles out of his slit and spreading it across the head with his thumb. 

With a roll and a twist, a groan is forced out of Jean and he drops his head back, too overwhelmed to kiss Marco back as he’s wracked with white hot flashes of tight pleasure. 

Marco plants a kiss under his jaw, then on his neck, moving down to catch the soft skin between his teeth and gently pull. Jean’s hand scrambles over his back, short nails scratching as he tries to choke back a high whine. 

Marco hums, movements slowing, before he backs up and drops to his knees. He pulls Jean closer to the edge of the bed by his hips so he’s positioned neatly between his thighs. 

Jean props himself up on his elbows, dazed, to look at him. “What’re you doing?”

“Helping.” Marco winks before ducking his head down and-

Fireworks explode behind Jean’s eyes as he’s encompassed in tight, hot heat. 

He flails shortly, hand tangling in the covers as he clings and his other hand slapped over his mouth to force himself quiet. 

Marco sucks hard, tongue swirling around the head, and Jean whimpers.    
“ _ Haa-ah, Marco- _ ,” he gasps against his hand, arching into the vice of his mouth as he shivers like a leaf.

Marco takes him by the hips to hold him down and bobs down on him, taking him deep and swallowing around him. 

Jean’s thighs shake as he squirms, helpless to the hot suction of Marco’s mouth, and he fights to keep them from clamping around Marco’s head.

Marco seems to be thinking the same thing because he moves his hands from Jean’s hips and instead digs them into the meat of his thighs, forcing them to stay open as he sucks determinedly, tongue laving over his full, hard shaft. 

Jean gasps, feeling the ball of magma like heat in his stomach curl dangerously tight. “ _ Fuck,  _ wait, Marco, I’m- _ aa-ah! _ ”

Marco sucks even harder, tongue dipping into his slit.

“Marco-  _ Marco!” _

Jean’s hand shoots to cling to Marco’s shoulder, hanging on as he comes harder than ever into his mouth with a high whine.

Every muscle in his body tenses as waves of blinding white pleasure rock through him, filling ever his every sense as he shakes apart. Thrills of electricity run through him like a current, lighting him up and his head is clear of anything else than just pure  _ feeling _ .

Finally, the blazing pleasure starts to clear and he gasps for breath.

As he pants, Marco pulls off with a pop, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Go out with me.”

Jean looks down at him, panting, cheeks flushed and too tired to recognize the true impact of his request. “Wha- ok?

Marco looks up at him hopefully as he fixes Jean’s pants back up. “You mean it?”

Jean, exhausted, his head still fuzzy, blinks tiredly down at him. “Of course, yes, but I don’t why you’d want to go out with me, of all people. I’m nothing special.”

Marco looks absolutely baffled. “Is that a trick question?”

Jean stares. “...No?”

Marco takes a deep breath. “You don’t know. You don’t know! Holy shit, that actually explains a lot.”

“Uh.” Jean leans away from him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What does?”

Marco lets out a short laugh. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you ever since you first came to the school! I thought you knew.”

_ What.  _

Marco, uninhibited, goes on. “I mean, how could I not? When you’re playing in the band, playing that violin, it’s incredible, it's like you’re dancing with it. Your own world, full of the sound. It's beautiful, even to a meathead jock like me.”

Jean interrupts, getting defensive of him. “You're not a meathead, you’re really the opposite-”

Marco shakes his head and goes on. “Seeing you study, how focused you get, how you smile when you’re thinking, how protective you get over your friends- I mean. I could just keep going, but, now it just seems like I’m a stalker. So. um. Yeah.”

Jean stares, speechless. “I..didn’t know.”

Marco snorts. “Yeah, clearly.”

Jean blinks and huffs a small, airy laugh. “Jesus fucking-,” he falls forward, hiding his face in his hands. “This is ridiculous. Yes, I will go out with you. I’ve liked you since...since basically when I first met you, the first day of our astronomy class.”

“Oh!” Marco beams and Jean giggles at the hilarity of the situation. 

He casts an amused gaze at Marco as he moves from the floor up to sit on the bed. “There was probably an easier way to reach this same ending, yknow.”

Marco shrugs. “Yeah, maybe. But we still got here.”

“That’s true.” Jean rubs a hand over his face. “How are we going to go back to the party, though?”

Marco hums before standing up and holding out a hand for Jean. “Together?”

Jean looks softly at him with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “That’s so cheesy. But yeah. Together.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> cool cool glad ya read it, lemmie know what ya thought in the comments, i love gettin those. imma go to sleep now cus its actually closer to 5am now that i finished editing this.  
> great bye 
> 
> If ya wanna chat, you can find me on twitter [Lynxkay](https://twitter.com/LynxKay) or on tumblr [Coffeewhisker](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/coffeewhisker) which is my fandom side or  
> [Felisorablue](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/felisorablue) which is my main.  
> I don't bite so come say hello, ey?


End file.
